alongside Fredric’s. “No one will ever compare to you. I might have done this a lot, but I have never done this with someone I…”
And there they were again. Syllables unspoken, but so heard.
“Before this, no one meant anything to me. It was a way to pass time, to feel good, but it was always empty.” Ilan’s thumb brushed along Fredric’s cheek. “This will never be empty, and that alone makes it so much better.”
“Are you nervous?” Fredric asked, and Ilan chuckled, low and quiet.
“I’m fucking terrified.” The admission did something to settle him, to calm the swelling in his chest down to something manageable. He curled his fingers around Ilan’s wrists, and he wanted to kiss him, but he needed to wait.
“Are we covered in paint?”
“Not enough to care,” Ilan said.
“Then I’m going to get Bas settled. If you want to wait for me in the bedroom…?” What he needed was five minutes alone to re-center himself, and then he’d be ready. He could accept the sex being mediocre. There was no chance in hell he was going to blow Ilan’s mind. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing apart from the experimenting he’d done on himself, and he knew that wasn’t close to the same as putting his hands on another man.
And the weight of it being Ilan, of it actually mattering— it felt heavy. But he wanted it, and he wasn’t willing to wait any longer. He just…needed a second.
Ilan seemed to understand it, because he rubbed his thumb over Fredric’s lower lip—just a single touch—and then he was gone. Fredric listened to him walk down the hall, and when the bedroom door opened and shut, he breathed out and quickly put his cane away before making his way outside with Bas at his heels.
He didn’t linger this time, making sure the porch lights were off so it didn’t invite conversation from the neighbor. He gave Bas the bathroom command, then waited until the dog nosed his hand, and they went inside. He checked his water, then filled up his treat chew and walked him to his bed.
“Lie down,” he commanded, and Bas flopped over with a sigh. Fredric knelt carefully on the hard floor, and he buried the fingers of his left hand in the soft fur at Bas’ neck. “Be good. I won’t lock you out all night,” he promised, then sighed. “Probably.”
He took a long moment after that of locking up, of making sure all the switches were down and the dog door was closed. He drank a glass of water, then he made his way out of the kitchen, trailing a path to his bedroom with his fingers grazing the wall.
He felt off kilter, like his space wasn’t his own suddenly. Ilan had always been predictable, but he couldn’t have possibly dreamt of this moment being real. Even at the wedding—when hints of something more tugged at him—he never allowed himself to acknowledge anything more than a single, lingering spark.
This was Ilan. This was someone who had been in his life—and more often than not in his periphery—for decades.
And now he was here, behind his bedroom door, waiting.
Stepping in, Fredric closed the door behind him and cocked his head to the side, listening. Ilan was always quiet, but he had been the sort of person to always make noise on purpose. Tonight, there was just stillness.
“I’m over here,” Ilan said after a beat. “I’m on the bed.”
His fingers went for his buttons, and he began to undo them slowly, stopping when he realized he didn’t know if Ilan could see him. “Are the lights on?”
“The bathroom one is,” Ilan said.
“Do you want…”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, this is enough.”
Fredric nodded, then let out a short breath. “Are you dressed?”
He heard Ilan stand, heard his socked feet move across the floor, closing the distance between them. He stopped when the back of Fredric’s hand brushed against Ilan’s side. “See for yourself.”
And he did. His hands found mostly bare skin, a thin t-shirt, boxers. They brushed down over the tops of hairy thighs, toward knobby knees before he had to stop. “You’re beautiful. But you probably hear that a lot.”
“Yes,” Ilan admitted, and Fredric grinned at his honesty. “I also never gave a shit before now.”
His heart thundered, his mouth went dry, and his hands pushed Ilan’s shirt up over his chest, then his shoulders, and eventually, he heard it hit the ground a few inches away. His body was solid. Sculpted